


Just Breathe

by Solangelo41



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Mycroft Holmes, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Panic Attacks, Panicking Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25195948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solangelo41/pseuds/Solangelo41
Summary: in my opinion, there's not enough of these fics. just some brotherly love.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Mycroft Holmes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 98





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> if you see any errors, point them out to me! thxs so much for reading<3<3

The shrill sound of a ringtone cut through the speaker's monotone voice, making his eyes glare angrily in the direction of the noise.  
  


"Sorry sorry," Mycroft pulled out his phone and glanced at the caller ID. Sighing, he apologized again. "I am truly sorry, but I have to take this."  
  


The speaker grumbled something about 'make it quick,' but made no move to stop Mycroft as he left through the door. _Geez, that man._ Mycroft was glad for an excuse to be out of the room.  
  


Pushing the answer button, Mycroft didn't give the caller a chance to speak. "Hello, brother mine. I thought we had an agreement about you calling me at work, hmm? You just interrupted a very important meeting." But instead of the clever comeback he was expecting, there was no response.  
  


"Sherlock? Are you there?" He heard a clunk over the speaker, as if the phone had dropped. "Sherlock? Is something wrong? Why aren't you answering?" He strained to hear something, anything coming from Sherlock. Then, very faintly, he could heavy breathing. Suddenly, it all clicked.  
  


"Shit, Sherlock. Okay, hold on. I'm coming." He quickly walked down the hallway, murmuring into the phone the whole way. "It'll be five minutes tops. Can you hold out that long?" Sherlock didn't respond, so Mycroft just kept repeating encouraging words to him. He walked out of the building and started for his car.  
  


"My-mycroft-"  
  


"Shh, Sherlock. I'm coming. It's going to be okay." He got into his car and pulled out of the parking lot.   


"It _h-hurts."_ Mycroft could clearly hear Sherlock crying now. He gripped the steering wheel tighter.  
  


"I know, Sherly, I know. Just breathe. Try to breathe." Not even bothering to obey traffic laws, he zipped down the streets, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally reached his neighborhood. Just in time, as Sherlock's crying was getting louder. Mycroft, wincing against the sound, turned onto their street and pulled up to the house.   
  


"Ok, Sherlock, I'm here. Can you tell me where you are?"   
  


"M-myc-"  
  


"Yes, I'm here." Mycroft barged through the front door, glancing around. "Where are you?"  
  


"Upst-stairs," he whimpered. 

  
Mycroft rushed to the stairs, but took his time climbing up. They were steep and he had fallen down them one too many times to make that mistake again. Once he got to the top, he followed the sound of Sherlock's cries. And there he was, huddled back into a corner in his room, tears streaming down his face. Mycroft hung up his phone and walked slowly over, as not to frighten him. But as soon as Sherlock realized he was there, he reached out to Mycroft.  
  
  
"M-myc, h-help."  
  
  
Mycroft was quick to oblige. He sat down next to Sherlock and put his arms around Sherlock. Shaking and trembling, Sherlock leaned against Mycroft, hiding his face in his brother's embrace. After a few minutes, Mycroft tried to get Sherlock to talk.  
  


"Shh, Sherly. Come on, you're going to be fine. Let's see, do you know anything about Thomas Tew?"  
  


Sherlock nodded fractionally, face still covered. 

  
"What can you tell me?" Mycroft encouraged.

  
Sherlock opened his mouth, but no noise came out. He buried his head once again and shook it roughly.  
  
  
"No, Sherlock. I need you to tell me. Try again."  
  
  
"Um, R-rhode Island," was all he managed to get out.  
  
  
"Good, good." Mycroft ran his hand up and down Sherlock's back, trying to provide some comfort. "What about Rhode Island?"

  
"That's wh-where he lived." Sherlock answered in a small voice.

  
"Excellent, Sherlock. Take a breath for me?"   
  
  
Sherlock sucked in a breath, and miraculously, it didn't get stuck this time.  
  
  
"Anything else about him?"

  
"He was a pirate sailing the Red Sea. He was b-born in 1649. He died on his second voyage in 1695. People called him the Rhode Island Pirate." 

  
"Good job, Sherly." After a few more minutes, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

  
"Better," Sherlock sniffled. He pulled away from his brother and looked up at him through his hair hanging in his eyes. "'m sorry. You said your meeting was important."

  
Mycroft looked at him fondly. "Not more important than you, brother mine." He pushed back Sherlock's hair. "And you don't have to apologize. You can't help it." He smiled when Sherlock shoved his hand away, blushing. He seemed to be returning to his normal self pretty quickly. 

  
"Are, um, are you going to go back to your meeting?" Sherlock was staring at some invisible blotch on the floor, looking very uncomfortable.

  
"I don't think so. It was very boring anyways. I was about to fall asleep in my chair if you hadn't called." Sherlock looked up at him with big eyes.   
  
  
"Really? I thought it was important."  
  
  
"It was to some people. But no matter." Mycroft eyed his brother carefully. "What caused it this time? Did something happen?" Sherlock started blushing again, avoiding eye contact. 

  
"Um, n-no."   
  
  
Mycroft watched as Sherlock stood up, dusting himself off. "It just happened. No reason."  
  
  
Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, it would do you good to tell me the truth. We don't want to have a repeat of what just happened." 

  
Sherlock stuttered, obviously trying to come up with an answer. But then he met Mycroft's gaze, and he froze. Mycroft tilted his head, waiting for Sherlock to tell him what's wrong.   
  
  
"It's just-, I th-thought, um. I-I don't want y-you t-to, uh, I'm sc-scared y-you-"  
  
  
Mycroft stood up and placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Making eye contact, he said, "Just tell me, Sherly. It's ok."

  
Mycroft watched as Sherlock's eyes filled with tears. "I-I, y-you're-! Ugh!" Sherlock slammed his foot on the floor and turned away, facing the wall. "You're moving and you're gonna leave me here all by myself and you're gonna be hours away and I'm going to have to be all alone in this stupid house and-!" Sherlock stopped when Mycroft's arms came around him, enveloping him in a hug.  
  
  
"Sherly, Sherly, Sherly." Mycroft gave a fond chuckle. "Always one to think ahead. I'm not moving for six months. I'm here, and even when I move away, I'll come to visit. You can call me anytime, even in the middle of one of my meetings. But for right now, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, and you're not going to be by yourself, okay?"

  
Sherlock mumbled something unintelligible, wiping his eyes.  
  
  
"What was that?"  
  
  
"I said, do you promise?"  
  
  
Mycroft turned Sherlock around. He bent to his level; looked him straight in the eyes. "I promise."   
  
  
And after everything that happened today, that was one promise Mycroft intended to keep. 


End file.
